


Breaking your bones, mending your heart

by Chatterbox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Soccer AU, WIP, alternative universe, football au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:43:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6448702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chatterbox/pseuds/Chatterbox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Drarry Football (or Soccer, if you prefer) AU no one asked for. I hope you'll give it a go anyway :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first Drarry fanfic, and I’m really nervous because I have been wanting to write one for a long time but didn’t muster the courage to do so until now. It’s a kind of prologue, and I’d really like you to tell me if you like it and would like to read more of it. Oh, and by the way, this is a football (or soccer, for US citizens ^^) AU. I know it sounds weird, but I really like football AND Harry Potter, so I thought, why not combining them? If you have a question about football (or anything else for that matter), feel free to ask. I really hope you enjoy it C=
> 
>  
> 
> Trigger warning: there is a football injury in this (and... I guess it can disturb some people, so be careful you guys).

“Harry… what did you do?!” Ron asked him frantically, looking even paler than usual. 

“I didn’t mean to… I… I just slipped… The grass was too wet… And…” Harry explained, feeling sick to his stomach. He was being honest: he had not meant to tackle Malfoy like that. Sure, he hated the guy, but that did not mean he wanted to hurt him. 

He watched, helpless, as the medics took Malfoy away on a stretcher. He did not even protest when the referee showed him the red card: he knew he had deserved it. 

He went to the showers and stayed under the hot spray far longer than was necessary, even more so considering he had been sent off forty minutes before the end of the match, as he mulled over what had happened. 

He was not stupid, he knew everyone would think he had injured Malfoy on purpose. They had been bitter rivals for years, fighting for the same spot in the English national football team and playing in teams which did not necessary fit together seamlessly. Then again, Chelsea did not fit seamlessly with any other Premiere League team, in Harry’s opinion. 

After his shower, he got dressed slowly and waited for the match to end and for his teammates to walk into the dressing-rooms with either smiles or frowns on their faces, depending on the result. It turned out to be the latter, as it often was when Arsenal played against Chelsea. 

“They pay the referees off, mate, I’m telling ya” Seamus was telling Dean as they came in. “I mean, the red card was fair, but that penalty certainly wasn’t”, he added. 

Harry didn’t even look up, ashamed about his red card and, above everything else, ashamed about injuring Malfoy. 

The coach came in right behind the last player and proceeded with the usual post-match briefing before letting the players leave for the showers. 

“Potter, I’ll see you in my office before training tomorrow” he told Harry sternly before exiting the locker-rooms. 

Harry felt his stomach a thousand little knots forming in his stomach. This, right there, was bad news: Remus had never, ever called him ‘Potter’ before. He was a really friendly coach and called his players by their first names, except if he was really disappointed with them. Having Remus disappointed with him made Harry even more disappointed with himself, even though he had not meant to injure Malfoy. He knew it was not his fault, but he felt guilty anyway, and it became even worse when he remembered the sickening noise Malfoy’s tibia had made when it came into contact with his foot, or the unnatural angle of his Chelsea blue-clad leg on the Arsenal red stretcher. 

Harry wanted to go away, far away from the locker-room, but he had to wait for Ron, because he was the one who had driven Harry to the stadium. They were neighbours, so they always went to training and home-matches together. It was nice, most of the time, but not so much when you wanted to be alone. 

When Ron had finished dressing and packing his things, Harry got up and followed him out of the Stadium silently. Ron did not ask him anything, waiting for Harry to start the conversation if he wanted to. Harry was thankful that he knew him by heart by now. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose, Ron, I promise.” Harry said after a while, as the radio started blasting ‘Surfin USA’, how fitting… 

It took Ron a while to reply, and he sighed loudly before doing so. 

“I know, mate… I’ve known you for more than half my life… I know you don’t have a bad bone in your body… but well, that’s not what other people are going to think…” 

“I know”, Harry tried to say through the knot in his throat. 

“Don’t worry, it will die down, sooner or later, when people find something else to talk about”. 

Ron was right, of course. Another scandal would come in a few weeks, most probably, and people would forget about that accident. Malfoy would not forget, though. He would not forget the months of physiotherapy and struggling he would go through because of his biggest rival. 

Draco would be out for at least six months, and that was all Harry’s fault. 

“Try to get some rest, mate… Tomorrow’s gonna be harsh on you” Ron told him as he stopped in front of his house. 

“Yeah…” Harry replied, not knowing if he was grateful for Ron’s honesty, or if he wished he had sugar-coated the truth. 

He went out of the car quickly and came back home to his empty house. Every piece of his extremely expensive furniture was shining, the floor was so clean that you could eat on it, and a smell of flowers invaded Harry’s nostrils as soon as he had closed the door behind him. There was no doubt about it: the house-staff had done a great job, as usual. But at that time of night everyone was gone, as usual, and Harry was left alone while Ron came back to his wife and child. Being a closeted gay footballer could make you feel really lonely. 

He threw his sports bag on the floor and immediately went upstairs. All he wanted to do was going to sleep and forgetting about the evening, even if it was only for a few hours. 

Sadly, nothing was going his way on that day, and sleep wouldn’t come. He tried everything, from counting sheep to drinking the stupid tisane Hermione had brought him to calm his nerves: nothing worked. He tossed and turned for hours and kept seeing Malfoy’s horrible injury every time he closed his eyes. 

When he got up to get ready for training, not feeling rested one bit, he made the mistake to check the football application he had installed on his phone. Broken tibia… he knew it. He nearly threw up when he saw the comments on the post. The problem was not Malfoy’s fans who were insulting him for injuring their favourite player, which was to be expected, even more so since they thought Harry had done it purposefully, but some of Harry’s fans, who were saying that Malfoy had it coming. 

Okay, Malfoy might have had a tendency to dive, and he was an obnoxious daddy’s boy, but at least he had never broken anyone’s leg… Harry had no idea how he was going to get through the day. Hell, he had no idea how he was going to get through the front door when crawl into a hole and die was all he felt like doing. 

However, he had to take responsibility for his actions and he got ready for training, leaving half-an-hour early so he could talk to the coach, but not before warning Ron he couldn’t give him a ride this time. 

When Harry arrived in front of the coach’s office, he took a deep breath before knocking softly. He was told to come in almost immediately: Remus had been waiting for him. 

Harry opened the door and walked slowly to the desk, keeping his eyes on his shoes. 

“Take a seat, Harry” Remus told him. 

At least, he was back to calling him Harry… this was a good sign, right? 

Harry did as he was told and started playing with his bag’s straps, as if he were back in school, being scolded by the headmaster. 

“So, do you have anything to say, Harry?” Remus asked him while seeping on a cup of tea. 

And, really, Harry should have known Remus was going to play it like that. 

“I… I didn’t mean to hurt Malfoy, I swear… I was going for the ball, but I slipped and got his tibia instead… And I’m sorry about it… I really am. I hate his guts, but it doesn’t make it okay for him to be out for six months” Harry explained. He started chewing on his bottom lip nervously while waiting for Remus’s reply. 

“Okay… well, you know what you have to do, now” Remus answered calmly. 

Harry looked up quickly, wondering where this was going. He was suspecting he had a pretty good idea, and he did not approve of it at all. 

“You’re going to visit Draco at the hospital and tell him what you just told me.” 

Indeed, he did not approve of it. At all. 

“But sir, I…” 

“No ‘but’, Harry, you know it’s the right thing to do” Remus replied. 

It was going to go horribly wrong, obviously. Malfoy already hated him two days ago, but now he had to be the man’s worst enemy, there was no way he would accept him in his hospital room without protesting… But, ultimately, Harry knew Remus was right: apologising to Malfoy was the right thing to do, and the sooner the better. So, in other words, Harry would have to suck it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it :) I'd like you people to tell me if you want me to continue this or not.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot to the few people who are reading this, to the ones who left kudos and gave me their opinions, you guys rock <3  
> Again, if you have any question, feel free to ask, I'd be happy to answer if I can :)

Harry had decided to visit Draco as soon as possible, so he had to tell Ron he couldn’t go shopping with him for his twin brothers’s birthday as they had originally planned. 

“Why do you mean you can’t come? Their birthday’s in two days, mate… You know they’ll have our heads if we don’t have their gifts… the little fuckers.” Ron grumbled. His brothers were always teasing him and he pretended to be extremely annoyed by it. That was how things went. 

“I know. I’m sorry Ron… It’s just that… I have to visit Malfoy at the hospital.” Harry apologised, having trouble not cringing when talking about what he had to do. This was going to be really hard. 

“Ouch” Ron said eloquently. “Coach Lupin?” 

“Yep” Harry replied, popping the “p” with an unfitting gloomy expression on his face. 

“I’m sorry, man… I would have said ‘good luck’, but you’re going to need far more than luck… Only magic could help you at that point… And I’m not talking about the rabbit-in-a-hat-kind of magic.” Ron rambled. 

“Thanks Ronald” Harry said ironically. His best friend was shit at comforting, but he loved him anyway. 

“Sorry…” Ron apologised, reddening until his face’s colour nearly matched his hair’s.

“It’s fine… see you tomorrow mate” Harry told him with a forced smile. He really did not feel like smiling. Crying, on the other hand… 

Anyone who was ignorant of the nature of Malfoy and Harry’s relationship would think Harry was being slightly (immensely) overdramatic. But, in truth, he was not. Both men had known each other since they were children and they had been football rivals ever since. They had both been formed in the clubs they were currently in, which meant that they were their respective club’s poster boys and also that they had played against each other for years. As if it were not problematic enough as it was, they were also fighting for the same spot in the England National football team’s starting eleven and, with the Euro coming up, it was even worse than usual. From now on, though, Harry would not have to worry about the Euro… Malfoy was probably not going to make it. Harry would not get benched this time… and a youngster would get called to fill the missing spot left by Malfoy in their coach’s list of twenty-three players. That was what he had been dreaming of for years, but, unsurprisingly, the conditions prevented him from feeling happy about it. 

So needless to say that, once Harry arrived in front of Malfoy’s hospital room after ten minutes of wandering down the corridors in search of it, he had become a giant ball of nerves. 

He did not think that it could get worse. How mistaken he was… the poor boy. 

“Come in” He heard from inside the room, so he did as he was told, reminiscing the similar scene he had lived in the morning, when he had come in Remus’s office. Deep in thought, he had not noticed that the voice he had heard was not Malfoy’s… Or rather, it was Malfoy’s, but not the right one. It was, in fact, Lucius’s. 

Lucius was one of the countless reasons why he couldn’t stand Draco. The man was a Member of Parliament, a right-winged one, of course, and he was basically a rich and extremely posh bigot. Not the nicest person in the world, in other words, especially for someone who identified as gay even though they had not yet come out. The whole Malfoy family was like that, and it was no wonder Lucius’s only son had been playing in the richest club of London since he was eleven (Harry still did not know where he had been playing before, but it did not matter). It was a wonder, however, that Draco had not ended up playing golf or polo instead of football. These were sports which fitted far better his dear father’s ‘high standards’ and it was no secret that Lucius did practise these sports on a regular basis, whereas he was rarely ever seen at any of his son’s football matches. He certainly watched the games at home, wanting to avoid coming into contact with that many ‘commoners’ at the same time or dirtying his designer clothes on the stadium’s plastic seats. 

“Mr. Potter.” Lucius greeted coldly. He was always cold. 

“Mr. Malfoy.” Harry said awkwardly. Most fathers would have probably blamed Harry for his son’s injury, even maybe hit him or insult him, or at least glare at him, but Lucius did none of that. 

“I will go now, Draco. Your mother told me to inform you she would come later, after her violin lesson. Have a nice day.” He told his son, as if he was talking to a stranger, before nodding to Harry and leaving the room. 

Harry felt a weird sensation washing over him while he watched the scene enfold. He had never seen Draco interact with his father for so long... Not that he was doing much interacting. In fact, in all the years he had known Draco, he had barely ever crossed path with them together, despite the fact they were not living too far from each other and were playing in the same national team. 

“What are you doing here, Potter?” Draco asked, fuming, once Lucius had closed the door behind him. He had not said anything while his father was here, keeping silent with his arms crossed over his chest and his brows furrowed, but now apparently he was going to express his anger. Fine, Harry had expected that. 

Harry was sure that, if he had not been unable to move due to his leg, Draco would have been up by now, trying to strangle him. 

“I… I came to say sorry.” Harry said simply, passing a hand into his hair nervously. 

“Liar…” Malfoy accused, “you were sent by Lupin. I’m not stupid.” 

Harry sighed, of course he was going to be difficult. 

“Yes… You’re right, Lupin sent me… But it doesn’t mean I’m not sorry… I am.” Harry apologised once again. 

“Well, it’s not surprising. Harry ‘goody-two-shoes’ Potter feels bad. He’s not used to injuring people on purpose, after all.” Malfoy sneered. 

Harry flinched at that and knew that the hardest part was to come. 

“I know you probably won’t believe me but… I didn’t do it on purpose, I swear”. 

Malfoy scoffed, incredulous. “You’re saying that just so I can save your ass with the media… Well, that’s not going to happen.” He declared, his arms still crossed over his chest, not looking at Harry. 

“I don’t care what the media think” Harry said honestly, “I just want you to know… It was an accident, I would have never done this… I don’t like you and you don’t like me_

“Understatement of the year, Potter” Malfoy interrupted. 

“Fine, we hate each other… But I promise you I wouldn’t do that to you on purpose… I just slipped on the grass... I’m sorry”. 

“If your stupid staff stopped wetting the grass too much, maybe it wouldn’t have happened.” Malfoy replied. 

Usually, Harry would have rolled his eyes at that, but this time he actually laughed, surprising both himself and Malfoy. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just…. That’s such a Malfoy thing to say.” Harry told him. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Malfoy asked, arching a perfect eyebrow. 

“Oh, come on. You know what that means.” Harry assured. 

Malfoy knew what his reputation was, and Harry was suspecting him to purposefully fuel it. 

“Right…” Malfoy said disinterestedly. “You can leave now, since you’ve done your deed. See you in six months” He said, trying to sound sardonic, but sounding mad and frustrated instead. His gritted teeth had not helped his case. 

“Okay… Wait, I got something for you” Harry said, only know remembering he was holding a plastic bag from Malfoy’s favourite French patisserie (he was such a fancy git). 

Malfoy looked up at him, his eyes widening comically, even though he tried to show no reaction. 

“Well… you can put it on the bedside table” he said, pretending not to care. “Thanks” he then added in a low voice, almost as is the world had escaped him. His uptight upbringing was certainly forcing him to say ‘thank you’ even if he didn’t want to. 

Harry knew he would be delighted when he saw what he had gotten him, even if he would never admit it. He had bought something the French called “tarte au citron meringuée”. It sounded really fancy and Harry didn’t know what it was exactly, but he had remembered reading in an interview that it was Malfoy’s favourite. Yes, he was reading Malfoy’s interviews… knowing your enemies was important in a battle. Harry thought that the more he knew about Malfoy, the more he could use his knowledge against the git. And he was currently choosing to blatantly ignore he was using that knowledge for the exact opposite of what he had intended to use it for. 

Harry placed the bag on the bedside table and retreated quickly before leaving the room all together. However, no matter how quickly he had left, he could not help but notice that there was nothing else on Malfoy’s bedside table than the pastry he had bought. No flowers, no gifts, even though Lucius had been there five minutes ago. For the first time in his life, Harry felt something else than rage or disgust for Malfoy. He felt pity. Coping with rage and disgust was far easier. 

Sadly, Harry’s adventure at the hospital was not over yet: he crossed path with Narcissa, Malfoy’s mother, near the entrance. He just wanted to keep on walking and pretend he had not seen her, but she did not let him have his way. 

“Mr. Potter.” 

He stopped right on the spot and looked up. He noticed that Malfoy’s mother was carrying a Teddy bear, which brought a smile to Harry’s face. He would have loved seeing Malfoy’s face when her mother would present it to him. 

“Hello, Mrs Malfoy…” He said awkwardly, noticing that Narcissa, unlike Lucius, was reacting like the average parent and was currently glaring at him.

“What are you doing here?” She asked with hostility. The similarity between her and her son was quite bewildering, and not just because of their white-blond hair. 

“I came to apologise to Draco for breaking his leg… I didn’t mean to hurt him and I wanted him to know I was sorry” Harry explained, repeating the same thing for what felt like the hundredth time since the injury had happened. 

Narcissa frowned for a second, looking at Harry intently as if she was peering into his soul to know if he was sincere. Harry had apparently passed the test, since she replied: 

“Alright… well, have a nice day Mr. Potter.”

“Thank you, you too.” Harry replied, as awkwardly as he had greeted her, before leaving with Narcissa’s eyes burning holes through the back of his skull. 

He called Ron as soon as he was out of the hospital, needing a change of air. 

“Hey mate, I went to see Malfoy… We could still go shopping for Fred and George if you’re still up to it.” 

“Yeah, sure, I’ll meet you in Oxford Street?”

“Yep… Is Hermione coming?” 

“No… She’s bought the perfect gift ages ago, as usual” Ron replied, and Harry could practically hear him roll his eyes. 

“Obviously, I don’t know why I asked.” Harry replied with a laugh. “See you in a few.” He then added before hanging up and hopping into his car, trying to forget about Malfoy and his peculiar family.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at head-in-rainbows.tumblr.com (I'm also clumsy-fox, by the way, but I'm going to post my fanfics on head-in-rainbows from now on). Come and say hi ;) (I think I'm a pretty friendly person and I loooooove going on and on about Hogwarts' houses and other things so we can have a chat if you want ^^). 
> 
> Hugs and kisses guys <3


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